


Impressions revisited

by Laranida



Series: Important Impressions [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dark Past, F/M, Feelings, Gen, Near Death Experiences, New Family, Protectiveness, Spanking (mentioned), Team as Family, Trauma, Trust Issues, Weird powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-10-31 11:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10898226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laranida/pseuds/Laranida
Summary: Another installment of my playing in the background ofandromyntra's  seriesBringing up SpideyThis one is picking up shortly after the Battle of Sokovia and explores what happened in the year before Peter was brought in.This part of the series will feature Clint's wife and children (as should be clear from the tags).Again be warned that this is a world where spanking is common and widely accepted.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a pet project and my life is pretty messy. I can imagine most of you knowing how that can go. I won't abandon any part of the series but I usually spend a lot of time on the chapters before I'm satisfied enough to post so I'm sorry to say that updates probably won't be more often than once a month. Always depending on the circumstances. 
> 
> So far I've always been happy about comments and I might even get inspired by them. I hope you enjoy.

Clint woke with a racing heart, the picture of Pietro's falling body still fresh in his mind. He had known that it was a nightmare the moment he realized the boy he was holding was Cooper and had turned to see Laura and Lila standing behind him – unable to protect them from the bullets and the pain to come.  
Even in his dream he was still surprised at the rustle of air. The Adrenaline of the moment the only thing that gave him enough time to take in the cocky grin, the spreading blood and the stupid catch phrase.  
Nothing in the hospital room had changed and the clock showed that he had only dozed off for a short time. Pietro’s breathing was shallow but rapid. The heart monitor beeping at a rate that would be considered unhealthy for anybody else but Wanda had insisted it was fine for her brother.

 

The poor girl was slumped over at the other side of the hospital bed – clutching one of Pietro's hands. She had felt his pain and when he lost consciousness afterward she had been sure of his death. She apparently had earned her new title as an Avenger when she tore through every Ultron she could find in her vengeful rage.  
Next to her Natasha was still keeping watch. Her mouth curling up as she met his gaze, prompting him to wipe his face to chase away any remnants of sleep. She had been unsuccessful so far in convincing Wanda to eat something but putting her at ease enough to fall asleep, even if it was in a damn hospital chair, seemed to count as a victory in her book.

 

Another look at the clock and Clint decided to call home again. He signaled Natasha and quietly slipped out of the room. It was still early enough at the farm and hearing Laura's voice and the children would ease his mind a little. He really should be with them, support his wife during this stage of her pregnancy but how could he leave the side of this kid who had saved his life?

 

In reality, thoughts about Laura and their children had of course gone through his head as his supposedly last moment had stretched out much longer than he expected, he'd had enough time to worry about each of the people close to him – then there had been that sudden saving gust of wind and he had opened his eyes to see the cocky little punk falling down at his feet. He had laid the younger boy, he still had clutched in his arms, down to hurry over and check on Pietro.  
Pain had been written clearly on the young speedster’s face even when his eyes fluttered shut.  
Steve had arrived just a second later sounding out of breath: “He pretty much shrugged off a grazing shot earlier, increased metabolism could mean faster healing as well, right?”  
“It could also mean he's bleeding out faster,” the archer had stated grimly as his fingers had located a weakening pulse.  
More hadn't needed to be said, Steve had picked up their fallen comrade and hurried back to the carrier, calling out for help while Clint had taken up and carried the younger boy. He had brought him to the woman who had been calling for him. Tears had been running over her face as she stammered words of worry and gratitude while the boy had quickly started to sob in her embrace.  
Hawkeye had been ready to collapse into one of the seats but he’d forced himself to find Steve and their wounded recruit. It was pure stubbornness that had held him on his feet right then. But his stubbornness could have been legendary if there were still legends written about archers in this day and age. The annoying little punk had saved his life, so he owed him and that meant he refused to let him die.  
He had almost been able to hear Tasha’s laugh just thinking those thoughts. She’d often enough stated something similar about his own stupid ass. But it had kept him alive to this day and it would do the same for the kid.  
Clint wasn’t ready to believe anything else.  
And then a darker impulse had been giving him more fuel to act. But anything had been better than feeling helpless. The brat would heal so he could personally smack some sense into him – when he had managed to dodge death as closely as this Natasha usually threatened to kick his ass and cheerfully did so as soon as he had healed enough to train with her – the image coming into his head was a more paternal scene. A throwback to the time he’d caught Cooper playing with fire in his room. First the shock, putting out the flames on the drapes, making sure the boy was fine and then scolding, gradually calming down before he put him across his knee. It had been the first time it had simply felt right when his hand came down on a bared bottom. The impulse seemed contrary in this case, knowing that the speedster’s selfless act had saved his own life but somehow the protective feeling towards the punk had overridden his logical thoughts.  
He sighed at the memory. The feeling had lessened a bit now. But he couldn't deny that it was still there. He had admitted to Laura that he wanted to teach the twins some manners but he hadn’t quite expected things to turn out like this. He delved back into remembering what happened earlier: “How quick could you get that Regeneration cradle to work?” Steve had asked Stark over the com while trying to keep some blood inside the kid. He had looked so young. They both had looked young. Iron Man had seemed distracted: “It's not exactly my area of expertise. We'd need Banner for that, Dr. Cho and all her assistants were killed, remember? And I’m still a little busy here.”  
“Do we have that frame-thing that fixed me or was it damaged as well?” Hawkeye had cut in, startling both of them. “Huh?” “I know it worked slower than the cradle but it might be faster than trying to fix that first,” Clint had tried to expand and surprised himself with how calm he sounded, working on the IV, “if it's functional, if Ultron didn’t destroy the software, I can push the right buttons. Dr. Cho explained everything while she worked on me.” Of course Stark hadn’t been able to just take his word for it: “It's not as easy as pushing a few buttons.”  
“I said she explained everything, didn’t I? Get me that thing and I prove to you that I can replicate a process I had explained in detail just a few days ago,” he had challenged before issuing a question of his own: “Is everyone else accounted for?”  
The extraction had taken some more time. Time he and Steve had spent stabilizing the unconscious from of the white-haired speedster. It all started to run together in his memory and formed a void. No medical personnel on the carrier. The one thing that stood out was that at some point Nat had been trying hard to keep Wanda away until the girl had managed to calm down enough to actually help them. It bordered on a miracle that they had been able to find the supplies they needed in the chaos. Pietro had seemed to slip away from them more than once but somehow they had kept his tenuous thread to life from snapping.

 

And now they were at the hospital. Stark had located a facility ready to deal with a case as complicated as this but had been busy battling the consequences of dropping off all the other people they had rescued ever since. A couple of the refugees also in need of medical assistance. Apparently there was no real reason why the young Sokovian hero hadn’t woken up yet. A thin layer of artificial tissue was fixing his lungs and the worst of the general damage the bullets had wrought. Although he would still need time to heal the old-fashioned way. Technology had found its limits. Seldom had Clint missed S.H.I.E.L.D. medical so much, seeing his notorious standing with the people working there but he was willing to bet those scientists had been close to finding a cure to death itself.

 

Nobody was answering the land-line at the farm and his peace of mind wasn’t important enough to call Laura’s mobile. He had been careful with the visits to the farm. It was unlikely that the position had been compromised. They’d just gone to some appointment he had forgotten or something spontaneous had come up. No need to worry. Right?  
His finger was still hovering over the call button when nearing footsteps made him look up. Steve was coming down the corridor. In his wake, Clint’s wife – safe and sound. She was somewhere between laughing and crying and started to run when she saw the look on his face.  
There were tears streaming out of her beautiful eyes and he swung her up, knowing how much she secretly liked that gesture in romantic movies. She started to laugh and swatted at him until he put her down.  
“Where are the kids?” He asked.  
“Protocol 4” She answered without missing a beat. “And you are under orders to return home as soon as possible. The Captain will back me up.”  
“He’s not the only one.” Clint kissed her forehead and held her close, breathing in her unique scent that meant home. It was strong enough to make him forget the sterile environment of a hospital corridor for a moment as she tried to press herself closer against him.  
But a part of him remained detached. ‘The security footage needs to be changed, just in case,’ he made a mental note before he decided to guide her towards Pietro's room.  
She took the still form on the bed in, standing silently. Cap had already entered the room before them – probably to give their reunion some privacy - and had woken Wanda who was now looking distrustfully towards the new arrival. Clint shifted his hand from Laura’s back to her waist, making their connection more obvious. “Honey, meet Wanda and Pietro. The newest and I think youngest recruits of our team. They are twins.”  
“Hello, I," her voice broke but she pulled herself together quickly, "I’m Laura, Clint’s wife. Just had to make sure he’s alright and I heard Pietro here -”  
“He can’t hear us, you know? He’s lost inside his own head and won’t wake until he finds a way out.” Wanda’s voice sounded hollow and flat.  
“Well, once he can hear, I’d like to thank him in person for saving my husband." Laura stated gently but with authority. "You’re welcome to stay at our home any time, loud as it may be, especially after this one is born. He’s our third and our daughter just found a stray dog she wants to keep.”  
The news caught him by surprise: “Oh no, Laura -”  
“They loved Lucky, Clint. But you can’t expect them not to want another dog, that goes double when they see one who needs a home.” She smiled lovingly at him and he knew he didn't stand a chance. Even though nothing could replace his beloved dog. This was way too quick, irrational and generally bad timing.  
“We’re not discussing this here and now.” He tried to uphold the illusion that he'd have a choice in the matter.  
“Then come home soon or be prepared for them to be attached to Lucky 2 or whatever name they decide to give her.”  
“They’d already be attached if I went home with you now. It takes them about five seconds to become attached.”  
Wanda’s giggle escaped before she could stifle it. Any distrust was gone from her face after their little domestic banter. The girl had probably been able to read all kinds of emotions from them. The giggle gave way to a yawn and Laura quickly went out the door to return moments later with a hospital bed and some food. The bed would allow someone to stretch out and sleep beside Pietro but first Laura was insisting on getting food into everyone. If Wanda got a great deal more of her mothering then it seemed natural and as overwhelmed as the little witch undoubtedly was, she didn’t seem to mind. Clint had the sneaking suspicion that if Laura hadn’t already been on her way, Natasha might have called her in as reinforcement.  
Maybe he should have resented that a little more but he was too proud of the amazing women in his life to give much of a damn.  
He was building a make-shift bed for himself, after everyone but the twins had left, when Wanda decided to speak: “Would it matter to you or your wife if Pietro didn’t set out to save you? If maybe he only wanted to make sure Costel was safe?”  
Her inflection seemed to indicate that she didn't care either way. Everything else about those questions though - he decided to set the girl at ease with an inquiry of his own: “Costel? That’s the little boy – you knew him?”  
“Pietro was courting his sister.”  
She explained, still guarded and Hawkeye had to think about that for a moment. “The blond woman? I assumed she was the mother -”  
“She might as well be." Wanda was leaning back on the bed. "She’s been taking care of him since their parents died a few years back.”  
“It doesn’t matter who he was trying to save." Clint assured her. "He saved us. The outcome stays the same. I bet he would have done the same for other people as well.”  
“He probably would have. Although family comes first for both of us.”  
He couldn't help shaking his head a little at her statement. “I don’t think it works like that in the field and if there is anything you can take my word on, then it’s this: Family doesn’t need to be related by blood. We all build our own.”  
She seemed to consider his words for a while, turning in her bed before she addressed him again: “Your wife, she has a thing for strays?”  
Clint smiled. “How else could I have ended up with a woman like that?”  
“Maybe you could have tried impressing her with your skills?”  
“Oh, that seldom works for long. Eventually, people see through the mask to your core and deep down I am a stray. Always was, always will be.”  
“So you do not truly have a family?”  
He laughed quietly. “I have more than one. Go to sleep now.”

Wanda was still puzzling over his last reply as she drifted off to sleep. Maybe she imagined the whisper that told her: “Us strays, we should stick together.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter grew and grew. On the upside that means I do have extensive notes on the next two chapters already. 
> 
> But I am still working on other projects as well and my personal life could practically be a Daily Soap right now. Please be patient or send some encouragement.   
> (^_^)

Wanda woke the next morning feeling muscles she hadn't even known she had. What she had done to make them cramp and hurt like this was beyond her knowledge or imagination.  
The smell of coffee was filling the room. A steaming mug was standing on the table in the corner but nobody besides Pietro and herself seemed to be there.  
Coffee. Both regarding smell and taste she was much more used to tea. She started stretching her limbs and felt her power flow through her body. During sleep it seemed to concentrate within. In her core. But it was more easily accessible if every part of her was brimming with magic and she wanted to be ready.  
Maybe she wasn't thinking in the right terminology but in lieu of a teacher she had had worse than nothing. Baron von Strucker hadn't cared much for niceties after he had had his miracle. The twins had been a bargaining chip and something to keep under control. His death was haunting her but Ultron had been convincing in his reasons for eliminating him. It had been Wanda who used his blood to write their message on the wall. PEACE.  
Pietro had hardly been able to stomach it but her brother had never been subjected directly to the vile mind inside that man's skull and he had put his trust in her. Shuddering, she turned to her side so she could see him. She was tainted. A witch. A bringer of grief and sorrow. If anyone should have died in Sokovia it was her.  
Being rescued hadn't made sense. Nothing made sense after the connection to Pietro had been ripped away in a wave of pain. She might have told the Vision to leave her if the Android hadn’t projected an overwhelming image straight into her mind. Her twin’s breathing form, severely injured but alive. Another miracle. Giving her back what she needed most though it had seemed irretrievably lost: hope. 

She touched Pietro's hand gently and sent another spark of her power into him. He was healing. But the pain was still overwhelming. Maybe his brain couldn’t handle it, if he were conscious, and would send him straight back to sleep. She had tried to reach for him. Pull him back. The instinct seemed selfish all of a sudden. Their wants and needs were entwined so often it was hard to fathom that the same might not be true right now.  
She wove a complex tapestry of wishes and chances, through and around him. Her eyes were seeing things an ordinary mind couldn’t grasp. Well, not her physical eyes - her other eyes. The ones she couldn't close. The ones most people never opened.

The sound of a clearing throat almost made her work fizzle out of existence. But she managed to stay calm and sustain the threads until they could settle. Pietro would need another IV bag soon. More nutritional density would help him heal faster. She should tell someone. She looked up. 

There was a woman in the room. A stranger. The serious looking brunette had probably arrived with Captain America. Both were now with the archer. Hawkeye, the supposedly weakest Avenger. Although he had been the one who had taken her out long enough that they missed their shot on the Hulk. Not to mention that he had brought her brother down as well. Seeing him drop away through the floor had been horrifying and still, when she had broken down under her guilt over helping Ultron, the same man had built her back up.

 _”It doesn't matter what you did, or what you were. If you go out there, you fight, and you fight to kill. Stay in here, you're good, I'll send your brother to come find you, but if you step out that door, you are an Avenger.”_

She was an Avenger and whatever was happening right now, she was ready to face it. Expecting some kind of confrontation the adolescent straightened up in her bed.  
Captain America spoke first, his voice gentle: “Wanda, I hope we didn't wake you. This is Agent Hill, she was on the carrier that brought us out - Maria meet Wanda Maximoff.”  
A tight-lipped formal smile appeared on the woman's face. She made a very professional impression. Smooth and hard like marble. Her thoughts and feelings were held under tight control. Even the modulation of her voice was carefully crafted to give exactly the impression she wanted to give.  
“Hello Wanda. Were you aware that Ultron deleted the surviving documents of Baron von Strucker?”  
Her clipped tone was instantly interrupted by a groan and an admonishment: “Maria, the girl just woke up.”  
“And we don't have a lot of time to control what information will reach the public.” Agent Hill countered the appeal to common courtesy. But the men still protested:  
“Tony can deal with the press.” _A wave of protectiveness from the American Icon._  
“At least let her have a coffee first.” Wanda expected a jumbled mess of things from the dishevelled marksman but he was in control as he walked closer to her and offered a coffee mug. She took it from him, smiling politely. Hawkeye had been open, yesterday. Now he was every bit a professional - a conundrum of contradictions. She took a sip of the bitter brew and listened to the enfolding argument:  
“I'm actually working for Tony Stark now, as you should know, not to mention that he is a ticking time bomb in front of reporters especially since he first put on that hero suit.” _Annoyance._  
“He has his own opinions on what the public should know but he's trying his best with the information he has.” _Indignation._  
“Yes, Captain Rogers. However trying your best doesn't always get the best results.” _A try to placate while pressing the point._  
“I agree. Most times having accurate information is crucial to make the right call.” _Thinly veiled accusation._  
The woman did not huff but her annoyance would now be palpable to anyone entering the room.  
“I would be the first to admit that mistakes were made in the past that doesn't mean I deserve this kind of treatment, Captain. I fought for what I believed was right.” _Another wall erected, purposefully letting some hurt bleed into her demeanour._ She was good.  
Hawkeye ignored the others while he practically inhaled his coffee. It made the argument seem old. He then acknowledged Wanda by winking once in her direction.  
“I'll apologize, ma’am, if you apologize to Miss Maximoff.” Captain America ended the discussion with finality.  
“Steve -” Maria tried despite his obvious intransigence before turning in another direction: “Back me up, Barton?”  
The addressee put up his hands in a defensive gesture: “Hey, I'm just the guy who was saved by her brother.” He pointedly looked at Pietro's still figure before going on. “Who is in a coma because that almost cost him his life. And whether it's weird powers or a twin thing, she actually felt all of that happen. So, I guess I think Cap has a point, Agent Hill.”  
Wanda was still trying to read the woman. While she obviously wasn't part of the core Avenger team, she had to be a close ally if she had been on the carrier and was working for Stark. Her character would say something about the type of people they deemed acceptable. The spike of mistrust almost gave her emotional whiplash. But she had learned the hard way that trust was something that needed to grow slowly and continuously. There was an opening. A momentary connection. “Fine.” The decisive declaration brought the teenager back to the present. But a first impression had been formed. “I apologize deeply for seeming insensitive, Miss Maximoff. And I really hope you get over this quickly because I am working on a deadline. I didn't intend to hurt anybody’s delicate sensibilities. But I need to establish some information as fast as humanly possible or better yet, faster. This should have been finished yesterday.”  
Wanda almost smiled but she took a deep breath instead and put everything that wasn't absolutely necessary away for the moment to respond professionally. Time to prove she deserved her new title: “Thank you, Agent Hill. I was aware that Ultron deleted the files, yes. He said it was a matter of protection. And just to be perfectly clear, I wasn't the one objecting to your question. It seems other people are taking offence on my behalf. Which is unnecessary although I appreciate the thought.”  
This actually earned her a real smile from the female agent. Although she still sounded just as severe as she asked the next question: “Do you know what was in the files?”  
“Only in part. There were a lot of scientists working on them. Trying to find out why we survived when so many others died. Trying to find out what we can do and how. They wanted to find a method for keeping us under their control.”  
“Did they find anything?”  
“They did.” Wanda lifted her chin and looked defiantly at her interviewer. Silently daring her to ask about the ways the twins could be controlled. The other woman barely looked up from her clipboard.  
“Clever girl,” she stated simply. “We can use that for a statement.” After that she turned and left. Without a doubt there had been contingency plans if her first line of questions wouldn’t have panned out. But Wanda was taken back. This had been remarkably easy. Almost too easy. All things considered. Captain America smiled reassuringly in her direction obviously insecure how to talk to her. It hadn't been that way in the field but by now he would have realised how dangerous and freakish she actually was. Surely he would want to know how to ensure her cooperation. She felt his regret before he opened his mouth. Probably regret about making her a part of his team. Even if Agent Hill hadn't asked he had to. It was his responsibility to keep her contained and everyone knew that he wouldn't let anything interfere with his duty. She was a danger. “I'm afraid I can't stay. Romanoff will come by and fill you in. Miss Maximoff, if there's anything you need. Don't hesitate to ask.”  
Wanda nodded, momentarily too surprised to speak.  
“Hawkeye, we clear?”  
“Positive.”  
Whatever the men had discussed. They wouldn't share it with her. 

It was weirdly calming when Clint relaxed and sat down next to Pietro’s bed. Each of them on one side of her brother. Just like the day before. It created an illusion of stability. Even if nothing was the way it had been before. The archer sighed and looked at his hands. She sipped her coffee, not knowing what to say.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint wondered what he could possibly say to the pale young woman sitting on the other side of the hospital bed. Her brother was the only family she had known for the last eight years, pretty much half of her life, and right now the boy looked more dead than alive. If it would be his own brother lying there he'd be devastated and Barney and him weren't even close these days. He sighed.   
The few hours of sleep during the night could hardly be considered restful, especially after the turmoil of the last couple of days and she wasn't showing any interest to eat. He wasn't great with words at the best of times but at least he could stay, keep an eye on both of the twins and offer some company. 

“His IV bag is nearly empty.” Wanda broke the silence after a minute had ticked by. It seemed to come out of the blue but she had contemplated talking for a long time and this really was the only thing that ~~mattered~~ needed to be said. “Maybe you could ask if they can add in more nutrients. His metabolism is so fast - it’d give his body something to work with. He might heal faster.”  
“You want me to talk to the doctors and nurses?” Clint asked tentatively while he rubbed his neck with one hand.   
She shrugged as if that would keep the feelings off of her face: “They'll probably take you more serious.”  
He snorted. “Medics. Most of them don't even like to take opinions from other professionals. I don't see why they should listen to me.”  
She actually grinned weakly about his behaviour. “Didn’t say it's reasonable but at least you are not the barely adult sister of their patient. And you were the one keeping him alive until we got here.”  
“True.” He got up and stretched a little. There was an audible cracking sound as something slipped into a different place and the nagging pain in his back lessened. “I'd ask you to tag team them, but I think you should stay with him.” Wanda stiffened at the first part of the sentence but relaxed when she realised that he understood - as if anyone could miss the way she clutched her brothers hand - like a lifeline. And why would he try to make her leave when he still found himself unable to let those kids out of his sight for long, himself?

The smell of the clinic put him on edge and talking with the personnel was exhausting. He seemed to actually have forgotten where they had landed. Germany perhaps or the Netherlands, Switzerland? The only thing he could make out was that the language sounded harsh and he didn't speak it well enough to understand what was going on around him.   
Few people were rushing, so there probably was no pressing catastrophe here. But everyone was busy and although most seemed capable to speak at least a little English, it clearly wasn't the primary method of communication. The majority of the staff didn't want to spend any time hearing ideas about the treatment of one of their patients. They may have been aware of the special case he wanted to address or not, they definitely seemed unwilling to make any adjustments.   
Clint couldn't even blame them. Personal involvement wasn't exactly a great advisor in medical issues but it was annoying to be brushed off again and again. Not that it stopped him from trying. Eventually he was seething with barely concealed anger and ready to explode.  
“Seriously? If I knew where to get him what he needs I'd do it myself,” he yelled, completely exasperated and was ushered into a seat by one of the nurses.   
She was young, not yet hardened in regards to all the tragedies that happen in hospitals day in and day out.  
“The problem is that the solution for the drip is not something that can be altered without taking all factors in account. There needs to be a balance.” She started to explain. “Adding anything could make it more salty, which would dehydrate him and his pH seems to be normal as well. For all I know someone is already working on it. But there actually is something you can do.” Her eyes were fixing him as if she was taking measure and he was glad he had not completely lost his temper.  
“We shouldn't rely on total parenteral nutrition in his case anyway. You can feed him. We actually have a _logopedist_ who will stop by-”  
“A what now?” Clint interrupted overwhelmed by the sudden flood of information.  
“A speech therapist.” The nurse specified after a small pause. “They often work with coma patients or other cases where we can expect trouble swallowing.  
If that doesn't work I think you'd be best off to wait for Dr. Pines’ shift. He likes special cases and would love to get noticed by one of the Avengers. Especially Tony Stark.” She winked conspiratorially and patted his arm.   
“I'll ask the kitchen staff to send up a few additional meals. Nobody will mind if you help yourselves although I'm afraid it won't be anything solid.”

He returned to the room with another round of coffee and some breakfast from the cafeteria. Wanda seemed distracted and nervous, bouncing her leg impatiently. She was hardly noticing him when he entered. He had expected her to shoot up and ask questions but simply placed her breakfast in front of her.   
“This is for you, eat up. We're going to feed him as soon as the expert shows us how.”  
“I'm not hungry.” She replied in a disinterested voice. Her faraway expression got his attention in a bad way.   
“You'll eat. I refuse to feed both of you.” His steely tone made her snap to attention. Then she got angry and defiant:   
“I said I'm not hungry. What does it matter to you?”  
“It matters because you don't do anyone any favours by starving yourself and unless your powers include a way to regain energy from the sun or something there's no way you don't need food right now.”  
She reluctantly took one of the plates and blushed when her stomach grumbled in reaction to the food.   
“Hospitals have gotten better since I was a kid,” Clint mused out loud as if he wasn't watching her actions while he settled back into his chair, “or maybe Stark just picked a nicer one than my parents could ever afford.”   
“The smell is the same.” Wanda volunteered and Clint could see her relax gradually now that he apparently didn't pay much attention to her.   
“The smell is always the same,” he affirmed dryly. “It was probably the worst part about Laura giving birth to Cooper. Nobody likes that smell. Having a child should not be treated like an illness. We went with a home birth the second time. Hopefully this time, too.”  
Wanda had taken a first bite which was a relief. She chewed for a long time, eating slowly and carefully.  
“My brother and me, we were a team as well. He wasn't much older when our parents died than you two when you lost yours and I was just a dumb little kid,” he paused, unsure how to continue but feeling that it was important to keep talking or she might stop eating and let herself sink back into despair.   
“What happened?” She asked quietly when the pause stretched out too long.  
“Well, our foster home was bullshit so we ran away. Joined a circus of all clichés and that's where I learned to shoot. ‘The Amazing Hawkeye’ coming to your town today.”   
Wanda giggled when he indicated stretching a banner with the words in the air.   
“You ran away to join the circus? That's your superhero story?”  
“Told you I'm not impressive. I'm the dumbass who fights robots with a bow and arrows.”  
The young woman shook her head in disbelief and looked at him with a glint in her eyes. But if he kept talking, she would keep eating. Hungry as she undoubtedly still was.  
“Adjusting the drip to his needs is apparently pretty complicated so they'll send us a specialist and then we can try feeding him. Might also help his body become more active. And I'm absolutely not telling you stories about the circus, that was a lifetime ago and you shouldn't even try.”  
“That's not fair. You brought it up, I at least deserve _one_ story,” she readily took the bait.   
“Nope,” he grinned, “I'm going to tell you all about planting crops at the farm instead. Actually that's going to be a short story. I don't know all that much about crops. But I bet I could tell you about sanding the wooden beams for hours-”  
“Boooring.” Wanda announced, cutting him off while gesturing with the cutlery. “Tell me a real story, Uncle Hawkeye.” She froze after the playful words had left her mouth and watched him warily for a moment before he began: “My story begins in the dark and cold winter months of a far away strange place called Canada.”  
It seemed as if every word made a little tension go out of the, technically adult, teenage girl.


	4. Chapter 4

_“Tell me a real story, Uncle Hawkeye.”_  
Wanda froze for a moment after the childish words had left her mouth. The man didn't seem to mind but calling him “Uncle” - she wasn't sure if that was something you did in America. In Sokovia it would have been understood as the honorary title that could be bestowed on any storyteller but even there it had been years since she had felt comfortable enough to use the expression. It felt and sounded weird on her tongue right now, and she wasn't even sure which language she had been speaking, but she definitely hadn't meant to say it out loud. It had slipped out because -   
because the Avenger just made it easy to be around him, be informal and simply trust him. Dangerous. But he didn't feel dangerous.  
He didn't seem to mind her slip of the tongue either, hardly acknowledged it at all, although he must have noticed at least her reaction. If he had failed to understand her because she'd spoken the language of her childhood then he seemed willing to let it go. Without missing a beat he got right to talking. His words, the rhythm and timbre of his voice; all of that was calming her down when it really shouldn't. She shouldn't let herself believe in that false sense of security.   
But maybe the Avengers really were different. Maybe they were safe. 

Still pondering that thought Wanda stroked her brother's hand and pressed a kiss on top of it. Pietro's fingers twitched weakly as if in response to the contact and she reeled back then gripped them tightly a moment later. Somewhere in the back of her mind she noticed that the story had come to a sudden halt. The whole world holding its breath.

Nothing happened. Nothing had changed. The heart monitor was beeping out the same pattern that had been repeating since its installment and there was no further movement. Tears where starting to form in the girl’s eyes as she looked for confirmation at the only person who might have seen it as well.  
The archer clearly hadn't missed what happened. Of course he hadn’t. The look on his face was all the confirmation she needed and so she concentrated on reaching Pietro's mind and - it was hard. Harder than she expected it to be now that she had gotten her hope up. He was lying right there, had moved just a second ago, she could touch him and nevertheless despite the movement this was still just his body. A flash of energy burst from her in her frustration and she could hear a gasp. She felt fear. Saw herself beautiful and terrible at once. Filled with the power to destroy and the picture cut through her carefully erected defenses.   
She slumped to the floor and started to weep. Strong arms closed around her as the tears spilled and flowed until she felt completely empty.  
“I ju-just w-wa-want to h-help,” she stuttered weakly. Feeble words from a defeated child. She hated herself for their pathetic sound but the arms around her tightened and began rocking her.   
“I know,” it murmured close to her ear, “I know.”

It would have been hard to say how long they stayed like this. Wanda struggled to get out of the embrace when there was a knock at the door and met no resistance. But the blonde woman entering the room had no trouble to assess the situation in a heartbeat. Her voice and whole demeanour was sympathetic: “Hello, I'm Amalia Vijver, the speech therapist. Do you need a moment?”  
Wanda stubbornly shook her head and wiped at her eyes. There was no way she'd let her brother suffer just because she was unable to keep a grip on herself. She gritted her teeth when the Avenger handed her a tissue before stepping past her to shake Amalia’s hand. She could see their lips moving but all she heard was the swoosh of her blood rushing through her ears. It rankled that somebody else was taking control in this situation. But it also lifted a burden that even her powers couldn't help her carry.   
She had been convinced of her brother's death and it had shattered her. Now, despite the hope that he would recover eventually, she could feel the cracks. As her recent meltdown had demonstrated it didn't take much for her to fall apart again.   
She saw the therapist manipulate Pietro's mouth and throat to make him swallow a mash of different foods. The woman opened his mouth to check if everything was gone and made a prompting gesture. Hawkeye hesitated briefly before he tried to repeat the procedure. But his hands weren't as firm as - a flash, the memory of a big hand gripping somebody, gripping _her_ by the throat, squeezing - Wanda turned and fled to the tiny bathroom where she immediately threw up everything that was in her stomach.   
When she came back out, Amalia Vijver had left. Clint Barton was patiently feeding her brother and didn't turn to ask her questions. He was waiting, giving her time to come to him. Not because he didn't care but because he knew what she had felt. He understood that any word would be misplaced. 

The silence stretched out like a blanket and Wanda wanted to wrap herself up in it. Unfortunately, she already knew it couldn't last. Someone would need to talk eventually. But _she_ couldn't and she wouldn't know what to do when it happened. Probably burst into tears again or hurt someone. She tried to pull herself together but failed. It would be easier if she was alone, except that wasn't really true. In 18 years of her life being alone had always felt wrong. Like an unresolved cadence, grating steadily on her nerves.   
And there could only ever be one resolution, one harmony - Pietro. She needed to trust that he'd come back to her.   
She wanted to say something. Maybe her voice could draw him back even when nothing seemed to reach him. He had moved. He wasn't gone. But even for him she couldn't shatter the silence. The atmosphere was starting to get tense when a movement drew her attention: Hawkeye’s head was slowly sinking to his chest and he started to snore. Wanda looked at him with an eerie sense of fascination. He had looked awake a moment ago. Suddenly it became impossible to contain the giggle bubbling up in her chest. The man seemed oblivious and it felt like a load being taken from her chest. Up until now a cynical part of her had wondered if the Avenger had stayed to keep them under observation. He had gone to sleep after her, he had been awake before her and he seemed uncomfortable leaving the room. She should have detected any ulterior motive by now if there was one but then again there were a lot of “should have”s in her past. 

There was another small movement. She felt it against her hands like the tiny flutter of butterfly wings. Once upon a time she hadn't known how much you could hurt a delicate creature by capturing it.  
The memory made her find her voice - though it was only a whisper: “Remember the butterflies, Petya?”  
Of course there was no response. Light snoring and the beeping of machines. Her voice grew stronger as she continued.   
“When Ma and Pa took us to the countryside and there were so many of them. They'd fly up and dance around you. You were chasing after them even though you didn't have a net. I don't know what we would have done if one had stayed in reach. And when I got tired of running I sat down and there was one just landing on my hand and another in my hair and I didn't move.” She smiled to herself. “There never were this many in the city. But I caught one in a jar. You poked holes in the cap, I actually thought it would have enough air in there as it was.” She shook her head. The thoughtless cruelty of a child. She moved closer to his ear to confess the next bit in a whisper: “I didn't understand going all still was a bad sign.” Her lips brushed over his cheek on her way back as she pondered how painfully obvious that was now. Living things should move. Maybe she imagined the subtle upcurve at the corners of his mouth or maybe talking actually helped bringing him back. “And then you talked me into freeing it because as interesting as it was to watch, you thought it must be frustrating for the poor thing, wanting to fly and having those walls all around. Do you think glass is even clear for a butterfly? I mean they see UV radiation and I don't know if glass -” she trailed off, such hypotheticals would likely lead to him groaning about the stuff she lost herself in under normal circumstances and it didn't seem right to went on about it now. She paused but the beeping monitor seemed to urge her to start talking again.   
“Then there was the spring we decided to raise caterpillars, remember?” It had been one of the few peaceful times during their childhood. A blissful quiet regarding bombs or gunfire. Especially in retrospect it seemed like an omen. The quiet before a storm.   
“We read up on everything they needed and went looking for the eggs. Just a few weeks until they were grown and could be released. I'd still swear some of them came to visit later on.” Even years later seeing one of _their_ butterflies had filled her with warmth. They hadn't been as colourful as the exotic ones she'd seen on pictures but it had been a joyful experience to set a whole swarm of them free. Not all of their caterpillars had made it but most of them. “And then you found the pond with the tadpoles and decided to raise frogs next. Pa said you could only have one but you argued there should at least be one for each of us. To be honest, I still don't understand what's so great about frogs.” A chuckle came from the chair on the other side of the bed. Wanda looked up and caught Hawkeye blinking sleep from his eyes. He stretched and yawned before offering with a voice raspy from sleep: “I used to think that's a simple boy / girl thing but Lila loves catching frogs probably more than I ever did and Nat - maybe I shouldn't talk about Nat - but I certainly never kissed a frog when I was a kid.” He winked and his boyish grin seemed to be contagious. Wanda found herself smiling wide when she responded: “I liked the tadpoles a lot more. It's interesting how they grow but -” she shrugged at her loss for words.   
“Who knows why we like the things we do,” his inflection didn't make it sound like a question, “the heart wants what it wants.”

Heart. Hers seemed to have gone crazy. Missing beats or doing double takes on a whim. Just because her brother wasn't fully there at the moment didn't give her the right to let some guy, even if it was a really nice guy, be - well, what was he trying to be? A friend? Just someone she could trust? Someone who cared? Hawkeye wasn't trying to replace anyone, definitely not trying to fill the void that resulted from Pietro's unconscious state - he wasn’t stupid enough to think that’d be possible - and trusting someone wouldn't be so bad actually. Would it? But she had underestimated him before and paid the price. His willingness to forgive seemed weird.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter transitional chapter, I just completed.

Natasha Romanoff finished her second round to secure the perimeter before she actually needed to think about what she was doing. Most of what set her apart as a spy was that her skill didn't take thinking on her part for most situations. If a situation got bad enough that her instincts, honed by the constant fight for survival that had been everyday life in the red room, weren't sufficient - most operatives would already be dead. And it was easier to run on instincts and fight without questions or thoughts. But she was trying to think more these days.  
Being chased by former colleagues was never fun. She'd thought she knew. But that wasn't an excuse. 

Meeting Clint was something to look forward to. She almost lost him twice during the last few days and losing him was unacceptable. That had been true since the day they'd met. Her best friend had had issues long before Loki had compromised him, if anything their friendship was a living testament of that fact - she probably wouldn't be alive if Clint Barton hadn't been such a ridiculous optimist - and the whole Hydra situation had cut him at one of his most vulnerable points. Now, he and his bleeding heart had apparently somehow adopted the Wonder Twins while she hadn't been looking. Which was good, she had to remind herself, as she was nearing the entrance. A new mission. A reason to stay with the Avengers. 

Running the gamut of debrief and press releases wasn't fun but it wasn't what had bothered her most. The hospital made her feel uncomfortable. It was too exposed. 

As a former spy hospitals for her were places where she had to go to finish a job. In cases when it was less suspicious if her target died in there. Silent kills. Tragedies, mourned by the public of whatever country she'd been sent to.  
As a result she would probably prefer fighting to the death before setting foot into one of them. S.H.I.E.L.D. medical had been different, as safe as possible. At least it had seemed that way. But that wasn't an option anymore. So she needed to keep her guard up.  
Naturally, she had made sure that nobody could have followed her. The people sneaking around in the bushes to her left seemed to be a couple looking for some time alone - it could be a cover but the probability of a hit job was low and nosy reporters weren't usually all that creative with their cover stories. 

Getting used to reporters had become a permanent concern when she started working with the Avengers. It didn't take much: Cameras could basically be used from the same angles that sharpshooters worked with and the rumours who was “romancing” her weren't really something that she cared about. But right now Maria would rightfully want somebody's head on a platter if any paparazzi got to the kids.  
Because they were kids, despite the law declaring them adults. Natasha knew what it was like to get older in a way that had little to do with growing up and 18 years meant nothing except making them old enough to be in a huge amount of trouble for trying to free their country and help the people they cared about. If they’d be found responsible for the mayhem it caused. 

The comment a certain jacket stealing teenage witch had given about being controlled by Hydra scientists definitely pulled on the heartstrings of Captain America and maybe they'd help to sway the public opinion. Natasha might even feel a kinship with the girl but what if it wasn’t enough to do what Steve had suggested? A mentorship? She stopped in front of the door to take a breath.  
It wasn’t a completely new concept but things would be different with the Avengers. She would be allowed to have feelings this time, even expected to have them. Her armour would develop another weak point but that just meant she'd have to grow stronger and protect them all - as much as possible.  
Should be fun. After all, she had always risen to the challenge.


	6. Chapter 6

Clint heard Natasha’s steps before she entered. She wasn't trying to mask them. Being too quiet could draw more attention than being too loud. He flicked a small paper ball in the direction of the door, perfectly aimed to connect with her forehead and it actually worked. He might have cheered. But he had only recently managed to convince Wanda to go to sleep. She'd been exhausted from all the effort of alternately pouring her power into her brother’s body and the emotional roller-coaster of the day.  
“You got me, S.H.I.E.L.D agent,” Nat smirked at him, “now watcha gonna do?”  
“Thank my lucky stars.” He responded with a small grin and lowered his arms but not his gaze. “Did I pass the test?”  
“You passed a section of it.” Natasha stated primly before crossing the room and sitting down next to him - not touching but near enough that he could feel the heat of her body - and he allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes for a second to soak that feeling in.  
He felt the movement immediately but before he could catch Natasha’s hand, her finger had already flicked his earlobe.  
“Ow,” he acknowledged the mild sting, earning himself a friendly shoulder bump.  
“All has been clear here since the early morning.” He stated after a pause.  
“Well, there has been a lot of noise.” She responded as warm as a Russian summer’s day and he decided to move on. They both knew they'd have to keep their eyes open.  
“The Roadrunner has started to twitch but there's nothing reliable there so far.”  
A nod. “She's been trying to reach him, of course.” Natasha cut to the heart.  
Clint sighed: “Every single time.”  
_”Der’mo”_  
Both of them fell silent for a while after the heartfelt expletive, though their hands inched closer and became entwined without conscious effort. The contact felt good, things always felt more right when he was with Natasha. 

“Clint? Rogers wants the kids to have mentors.”  
Her announcement caused Hawkeye to snap to attention quite suddenly.  
“Good call. Whoever he picked they are going to have their hands full.” He squeezed her fingers lightly and tried not to wonder who’d be in charge of the twins. He definitely wouldn't be jealous. Once the boy regained consciousness he'd thank him and go home to take care of Laura and the children. The punk would already be settled in the tower before he returned. The list of Avengers was short and those two would have a big impact on the team.  
“Clint -” Natasha paused and he wanted to smack himself. Of course Cap would pick a female mentor for the girl.  
“You're going to do great, Tasha.” He smiled in a way he hoped to be reassuring, “probably much better than the poor SOB who’ll try to keep up with him. And don't worry I understand that you won't be around on the farm until she's all settled. I'll send you pictures and there's video chat and stuff.”  
“I don’t think it would be a good idea to separate those two,” she said in a voice that told him she considered him to have said something incredibly stupid, right now.  
“Right,” he said slowly, “which is why ya’all probably stay in the tower.”  
Her expression soured even more as she studied his face.  
“Just who do you think Rogers chose to mentor the boy?”  
He scratched his head with his free hand. “ Honestly, I just didn't,” he mumbled before the penny dropped. “No. Really? Tasha - why?”  
“Because you busted your cover as an immature idiot when you introduced your family.”  
“Did you tell him about my dreadful accent?”  
“Told him as far as I'm concerned you're already speaking something that couldn't possibly be Russian. Could just as well be awful Sokovian,” she grinned without mercy or regret.  
“How do you suppose I manage juggling all that, huh? I thought I left the carnival” he complained but there was no bitterness in his voice.  
“You're a hero, Clint. Things always work out best if the odds are stacked against you.” He grumbled though warmth flooded his system at her words and the thought that Captain America trusted him to mentor someone with superpowers. _”You didn't see that coming?”_ A taunting voice shot through his head.  
“Is it too late to just suffocate the brat?” He asked deadpan.  
“Far too late,” Natasha replied easily and utterly unconcerned over his empty threat.  
She let go of his hand and carded her fingers through his hair. “Do you think it would be too early to chew her out properly for stealing my jacket?”  
“Since when do you think it's wrong for people to help themselves to the stuff around?”  
“Since someone took something I actually consider mine.”  
He chuckled softly and wrapped his arms around her. Even after all their years together it was still a bit surprising when she actually relaxed into his hug.  
“Don't worry, Nat. Things will work out just fine.”


	7. Chapter 7

A gentle meadow was spreading out as far as Wanda’s eyes could see. She couldn't remember ever seeing something like that in reality but she started wandering around aimlessly, feeling calm, serene.   
The sky was tinged in shades of yellow, green and blue. Stars visible where the colour wasn't light enough to drown them out. A tree with fine branches seemed as if it was fishing for the stars. Casting a net into the deep blue of the sky.  
Then she knew he was there. She could feel him coming up behind her. Pietro's familiar arms hugging her close. “I didn't expect to see you so soon, Wandotschka.”  
“I'm asleep, Petya. As are you.”  
His body was shaking and he stepped around her. The bullet wounds stood out in stark contrast to his white clothes. “I expect this sleep to be rather permanent, dear sister” he replied seriously. “What's the last thing you remember? Did we succeed?”  
“We did. A lot of people worked really hard on keeping you alive. The archer and the Captain for the most part. And the other Avengers brought in some kind of machine to fix the worst of your injuries. You're in a hospital now and the doctors see no reason why you shouldn’t wake up.”  
Pietro started laughing. “And is the old man sitting at my hospital bed to ask me if I didn't see that coming?”  
“I don’t know what he plans to do when you wake but he is staying at your bedside.” Pietro stopped laughing. And Wanda continued: “As am I, of course.”  
Her brother was quiet for some time. Then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Anyone else keeping watch?”  
“Not currently.” Wanda answered, wondering where this would go.   
Pietro’s face went grim. “If he so much as lays one finger on you. I swear, I'll kill him.“  
“Don't be silly, Petya. You don't want to kill anyone.”  
“I'd do it for you.” He said seriously and Wanda took his hands into hers before she responded:  
“I can take care of myself. I'm not the one in a hospital bed.”  
Pietro calmed down a little upon this reminder and pulled her closer. “I'd still beat him senseless.”   
Wanda sighed. “He's a good man, Pietro. I met his wife. They're about to have their third child - although it felt like she wanted to adopt me. Us.”  
“She'd change her mind about that.” Pietro stated with dark conviction, “They always change their minds, Wanda.”  
Wanda decided to drop the topic for now. “The other Avengers have been here at some point or another - well, except Stark. They'll return tomorrow.” She leaned against her brother, feeling his heartbeat. Pietro played with her hair.   
“Why should they return? The battle is over and they even repaid me for saving one of them.” His voice sounded dismissive and disinterested.   
“We are Avengers now, Pietro.”  
He snorted. “Funny. I don’t remember signing over my soul.”  
“Are you truly pretending to hate them still? After being on their side in the battle?”  
A deep sigh: “We don't need them, Wanda. We only ever needed each other.”  
“They can help us become something more and they could help us find a family again.”  
“We are family. If you and I ever get married, that's about becoming a family. Everything else will fall apart. And in America not even marriage is for life.”  
“A thing isn't beautiful because it lasts.” She heard herself say. The conversation halted.  
“And which crappie poet said that?” Her brother finally asked annoyed.   
“I don’t know if I would call the Vision a poet but she does have a rather interesting outlook on life.”  
“She's creepy. I mean, I trust you and you say she's okay but she is still creepy. Before Stark got to her she would have destroyed everything, you said so, and -”  
“That wasn't her. It was Ultron.”  
“Wandotschka. I love you. I really do. But sometimes you don't make much sense.”  
“Well, neither do you. I know you like running but everyone needs a place to sleep and feel safe. That takes trust, Pietro. We need to trust someone.”  
“You’re the only one I can count on and even you have - you trust too easy. You trusted Ultron.”  
“I couldn't read his mind.”  
“That's part of my point. Your powers don't always work the same way. I mean, now you're talking to me in a dream? And what if you are wrong, Wandotschka?” His uncertainty was palpable and she started to question the conclusion she had fought so hard just a few hours ago. But it was solid.   
“I'm not.” She said with confidence. “Will you come with me?”  
“I'll go with you wherever you go, you know that. But I will keep my eyes open.”  
“So will I, my brother.”

As if the words had been a signal, Wanda could feel herself being pulled towards awakening and she clung to Pietro, pulling him with her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been long coming and I apologise to anyone still reading for the long wait.   
> I wish I could promise I'll update more regularly again from now on. But the only promise I can make is that I won't purposefully abandon my stories. If I don't update, well, then I'm struggling for some reason or another. 
> 
> I hope you like what I have to share. I wish all of you the best. ❤

Pietro woke up to a world filled with different aches and the smell of “hospital” assaulting his senses. He quickly found out that those aches could and would intensify to spikes of sharp pain if he tried to move. Pain that he was ultimately willing to endure when his eyes finally fell on his sister rushing to his side. “Pietro!” She cried out still tussled from sleep as if she had just been waking up herself. Not a sign of injury on her, but her eyes filled with tears as she clutched his hands and forced a smile. Probably trying to keep all her other emotions at bay.  
He groaned, wanting to respond somehow but finding himself unable to form words. Then Hawkeye, the Avenger came into his field of vision: “Welcome in the land of the living, punk”, he said in an oddly affectionate tone. He seemed to vaguely offer a straw in lieu of more words. But when Pietro tried to move himself upright, he was pushed back and the drink was cruelly moved out of his reach.  
The 18-year-old struggled weakly against the hand holding him down and felt a strong arm slowly slipping under his upper body and lifting him while someone else was fiddling with the bed. There was a low noise in his ears so maybe someone was talking to him? Whoever was changing the settings of his bed, it couldn't be Wanda. He might have panicked if his sister hadn't still been squeezing his hands and smiling at him through her tears. How he wished to comfort her. But even just breathing hurt. How was he still alive?  
Slowly the memory from his dreamlike state recovered. He probably should have known that he didn't deserve to be at peace, yet. Another miracle - as people might call it. He tried to remember if he'd been through something worse. Maybe it was even as bad as back when they were recovering from lying under the rubble and had breathed dust for days - although, no, that must have been worse. It almost definitely seemed worse just remembering it, so it definitely would have been worse at the time.  
Pietro might have blacked out for a second while Hawkeye carefully moved his body or maybe he was just caught in the memory but the next thing he knew the straw was pushing against his lips. _Torture and relief._ his mind told him but no! The Avengers were supposed to be different.  
He drank greedily until he needed to gasp for air.  
He sounded weak and hoarse when he first managed to get words out: “I - I”  
_I didn't see that coming._ a voice in his head mocked him. “I'm sorry,” he slurred and pressed Wanda’s hands. He felt weird, as if his head was stuffed. He wasn't even sure what he was apologising for but someone was brushing his hair from his clammy forehead and in all this mess that actually felt nice. His eyes locked with those of the man he'd last seen when he thought he was dying. An unreadable gaze. 

More thoughts surfaced unbidden from his troubled mind. “Costel?”  
The one word question ended in a cough.  
“Kid didn't even get scratched. I carried him back to his sister. How are you?”  
“I've lived through worse.” Pietro rasped and took another big gulp of his drink. He felt exhausted already.  
“He's - he'd probably feel better if he can see you -” Wanda suggested hesitatingly, squeezing the fingers she held onto.  
“Not,” Pietro swallowed before he could go on, “not now.”  
Then he closed his eyes, tired from the little interaction he had managed.  
“No, not now,” Hawkeye’s voice agreed gently. 

Before he could fall asleep the speedster’s stomach rumbled which made him groan in embarrassment. Getting enough food for his quick metabolism was the biggest drawback to his powers. A hospital would hardly provide him with food around the clock and in his current condition he wouldn't be able to swipe stuff either. He tried to fall asleep regardless of his empty stomach when the room suddenly smelled of something mouthwatering delicious - and that was such a surprise that his eyes flew wide open. A cup full of thick nourishing soup was directly in front of him. An unfamiliar female voice encouraged him to take first one sip and then another. Not that he needed much encouragement. The temperature was just right and the only thing holding him back was the pain shooting through his body.  
He shivered, not really knowing why and felt Wanda’s calming influence settle over him. Regardless of her efforts his clothes were drenched in cold sweat and he was shaking from the strain when he finished the soup. His heartbeat was starting to quicken. He didn't know what was expected of him now.  
Hawkeye’s voice rumbled beside him and for some reason, it actually helped, with a final smile in Wanda’s direction, Pietro drifted off into oblivion. 

The pain had become much more bearable the next time he woke up. But everything felt surreal. It didn't help to see Wanda leaning on Hawkeye’s shoulder. Jealousy coursed through him at the sight. Then the old man actually offered to feed him as he lifted Wanda and settled her in the other bed.  
“We're not children.” Pietro hissed, frustration and resentment bubbling over. The archer looked him up and down thoughtfully. “I didn't say you were. But we both know that you cannot move right now and I think chances are you're hungry.”  
Thankfully, he didn't force the issue and went outside, leaving him alone with his sister instead. Oh, but there had been someone else, the speedster tried to move to see if he could spot the origin of the motherly voice. Moving proved to be a bad idea though as it set his head spinning. He wouldn't have thought it was possible for him to get this dizzy after all the changes his body went through. Hawkeye came back carrying several trays with food and frowning as he looked at Pietro, sweaty again from pain and pushing himself to move.  
“Do you need more painkillers first?” He asked, his voice sounded harsher now so Pietro gritted his teeth and shook his head - the dizziness increased and the older man hurried over. “Don't be an idiot,” he scolded as he handed over a pill and some water. But whatever he wanted to say next was interrupted by an amused female voice: “I believe that's what people commonly describe with the saying of “paying for your raising”.” The Black Widow smirked while she was strutting into the room, Captain America in her wake.  
Pietro's heart sank. He wasn't in any condition to show that he could be useful now. He didn't even know how many days had gone by till the battle. He had done his part then but he had also mouthed off and the situation had been his fault in the first place. If he hadn't talked Wanda into volunteering for the experiments, none of this would have happened. Zrinka and Costel, Yezel, everyone he knew wouldn't have lost their home. Even before considering the people they might not have been able to save. Buildings had collapsed before the evacuation. What if there were children stuck somewhere below the rubble? His mind flashed to the feeling of confinement, to a bomb that wasn’t going off now but might any moment - blinding, naked fear. What had happened to the flying city? Where people still trapped in there? The movement around him was slowed to a crawl as his mind spun faster. He saw the flirtatious tilt of the Black Widow’s mouth and her casual clothes, the Captain’s doubting expression and the archer’s scowl. Wanda would definitely be waking up from all this commotion, he thought, and took several purposefully slower breaths. Closing his eyes, might not even seem like much more than blinking to the others but it was calming.  
He didn't care what the Avengers thought of him, he reminded himself. He looked at them, prepared for the worst. 

“What the hell, Nat. I take painkillers if they're given to me.” The archer complained and Pietro reeled a bit to find the connection. Hawkeye had asked him about painkillers.  
“Sure, since you've been with your wife. That's why I gave my blessing to that union.” The redhead teased.  
“If you two could stop bickering for a moment,” their team leader cut in and Pietro involuntarily straightened up at the tone despite the pain shooting through his body, then it continued more gentle: “Oh, I didn't know you were sleeping, Miss Maximoff. I'm sorry.” 

“No, I wasn't -” Wanda looked around confused and yawned, her hair tousled. She blinked a couple of times before addressing the archer: “Clint?“  
The man shrugged. “Sorry, sweetie. I was just skipping out to get some food - didn't want you to fall off the chair.”  
Pietro's twin scrunched up her nose and complained: “You could have woken me up.” She seemed oblivious to the long-suffering looks of the Widow and the Captain and weirdly comfortable around all of them. How long had they been stuck in this godforsaken hospital? 

“Yes, I could have but I didn't know everyone would be here so soon. Cap? You wanted to say something?”  
The famous American Icon seemingly was busy looking at Wanda with a fond expression. An expression that Pietro found uncomfortable. What was going on here? He would gladly have taken a swing at him again right this moment. Even though he had idolised the famous hero at some point during his childhood as if he actually had single-handedly defeated the Nazis. 

Captain America's eyebrows were moving closer together when he turned towards the wounded speedster. When the adrenaline had been running high, they had stood beside each other, looking up at the carriers that brought back hope, a way to escape the unfolding disaster.  
_“This is SHIELD?” Pietro had asked and the other man had replied: “This is what SHIELD's supposed to be.”_  
And Pietro had felt like he was a part of history. He wondered if the man knew that the Maximoff family might have ended up in a concentration camp if it wasn't for him - but America had betrayed Sokovia after the Second World War was over and even if they hadn't, it still didn't mean their hero was entitled to look at Wanda like that.  
His sister might already been taken in by the Avengers but it wouldn't do to forget that their leader had once been chosen to deliver war propaganda. It wouldn't do to be naive again.  
So Pietro steeled himself when the first Avenger started to talk.

“It would be good if we could transfer all of you to a safe house as soon as possible. The doctors will want to assess the severity of your wounds today, Mr Maximoff.”  
Hawkeye snorted. “Just call me Pietro.” The teenager said automatically and almost immediately looked down. He didn't see the looks on the Avengers faces soften. But he did notice a calloused hand taking up the pill he had handed to him, probably just a few minutes ago and holding it in front of his mouth. “I'm not taking this.” Pietro spat. “Clint.” Captain America said. “Now isn't -”  
“I'm just trying to do my job as his future mentor.”  
“Boys!” Natasha’s voice cut through the rising tension and had everyone stopping in their tracks. “The point that Steve was trying to get across was that this is the moment you two need to decide if you want to stay with the Avengers or if you want to stay with the Sokovian civilians.”  
Both of the twins were looking at her now “There's footage of both of you fighting on our side. But there are also reports about the events leading up to our confrontation with Ultron. We will try to keep you out of trouble regardless of your decision but it would be easier if you joined the team full time. Clint and I would become your mentors and we'll all lay low for a bit. Think it through carefully. We need the answer before we get you to the safe house.”  
Wanda nodded solemnly and Pietro wondered if she really thought through all their options when she had clearly made her decision long before now.


End file.
